The best days of our lives
by Archer
Summary: The Assassins Guild, around 30 years ago (i'm guessing) and the value of true friends. I randomly gave Downey the name Elliot. Sorry.
1. Default Chapter

Author's note: Hey all, I know it's been a while since I attempted anything with chapters but hey, I'm having another go……

Disclaimer: I own Silas G. Devlin, his Hair and the athletic potato thing. Everything else belongs to Terry Pratchett. Don't sue me.

The best days of our lives.

Chapter one: Rivalry, prejudice and athletic potatoes.

The sun streamed through a gap in the heavy curtains, piercing the gloom of the dormitory.

There was the faintest suggestion of movement in the doorway, a shape moved swiftly towards the beds at the darker end of the room. 

There was a muffled thump and a curse, then the buzz that comes with someone making no noise at all.

After a while the shadow moved on.

Two other shadows, which were rather more adept at stealth, lurked in a corner.

They turned to each other.

"What do you think he does every morning?" one said to the other.

The other shadow shrugged.

They stood there for a while in case anything else interesting happened, then there was an empty corner, although the casual observer would have sworn that nothing had moved.

               *             *             *

"Where's Grunworth, Havelock?"

"I've no idea."

The first speaker looked up from his books.

"You sound less than happy." He remarked.

"That's because I am less than happy, Silas." Said the speaker identified as Havelock.

The other raised an eyebrow; this was a confession of magnitude from the seventeen year old opposite him.

Havelock shrugged.

"It doesn't matter." He dared Silas to say more with a stare that could have quickly unnerved a mountain.

Silas knew when to back off.

"I was just being a friend." He said.

There was a derisory noise from Havelock, who bent his head over his own books again.

Silas sighed and got up in search of Grunworth Nivor, his partner in crime.

Silas G. Devlin, son of Zachary G. Devlin, was a naturally optimistic young man with a deceptively

slight frame and a mad mop of brown hair that no amount of combing could tidy.

 He'd long ago given up when his hair had unexpectedly become violently rebellious and kidnapped the comb and refused to let it go, only after much tugging and swearing was it persuaded to see reason and they'd come to an informal truce. Silas didn't comb it often and it didn't make trouble. It was ridiculous, being repressed by your hair. 

Since enrolling at the Guild of Assassins, he had learned that it is always best to appear more stupid than you actually are. 

It was a technique that never failed him. The keenly intelligent were naturally belittled out of jealousy, but the stupid were just stupid, and could safely be ignored.

Silas liked people to ignore him; it meant he could get things done without interruption.

Havelock, he suspected, would never get the hang of appearing stupid, it was part of the reason Downey picked on him, people with the all the intelligence of a dead fish are not only jealous of those they recognize as their superiors on a subconscious level, they fear them as well.

It made Silas smile, although Downey was popular with the more snobbish crowd, when it came to the subtle art of…well, subtlety, he was as competent a contestant as a potato attempting the pentathlon.

Silas allowed himself a full grin, he knew who would win eventually, and sometimes, just sometimes, it's not the getting there that matters, it's where you damn well end up.

Grunworth Nivor was used to dread apparitions, hells, he shared a dorm with Downey and his crowd.

Still, he was surprised to see a living scarecrow wandering through the quad. He peered closer. Ah, Silas was looking for him. Well, he could go on looking. 

Also naturally jolly and easy going, Grunworth was a great believer in the basic goodwill inherent in human nature, despite living in Ankh-Morpork. He'd enrolled in the Assassins because he believed it would cure him of this unfortunate character trait. It hadn't so far, but he was learning to appreciate the amount of money generated by the lack of it. He didn't understand why people had to pick on others in order to feel better, but he always helped the unfortunate involved if he could, and if the picked on was a friend, well, they had all just better _watch out_.

He read the piece of paper again, yes, this would make Havelock's day. This would make Havelock's _year_.

In a comfortable corner of the quad, Johan Ludorum was in deep discussion with Elliot Downey; they were both irritable after a long history lesson and dying to make up for it in mischief of the vicious kind.

They'd already stuffed Dog Botherer's pillow with thistles but it wasn't good enough, the heat was stifling through the black of their clothing and matters were only made worse by the double religious studies looming ahead.

Spotting "Scarecrow" Devlin wandering across the quad, Downey halfheartedly engaged in some petty bitching whilst looking in his pocket for something.

Johan was agreeing with him on the disgrace to the guild that was Scarecrow, Dog Botherer and anyone else who wasn't rich or prejudiced enough to belong to their clique, when Downey turned pale and ran into the library.

Johan shrugged and sneered at the vacant expression that Silas was careful to adopt when around other students.

Ludorum was a young man with an exceptional grasp of the theory of assassination, and was not entirely oblivious to the subtlety of human nature either. 

He only kept Downey around for someone to vent spleen with. He felt that Elliot lacked something, like sufficient intelligence, but made up for it with unshakeable belief in his own superiority. It was all too easy to picture him rising to leader of the pack.

He agreed with him on one thing though, people like Vetinari shouldn't be allowed to be intelligent, it was degrading, it was worse than degrading…and yet…sometimes Johan had watched the boy working and had the awful feeling that he was in the presence of something he didn't understand. 

He'd never admit it, but just occasionally, the boy made him afraid.

He shook his head and went to see what had made Downey so worried.

It wasn't there. Not in his pocket, or in his trunk or bag. He had to stay calm; he remembered a tricky spot on the roof as he had slipped past Cobra House this morning. It may have fallen out there.

 He ran out of the room as the bells rang to signal the end of lunch.

Grunworth burst into the library just as Havelock was leaving. He dragged him into a corner and showed him his find.

There was a whispered conversation.

Grunworth nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Grunworth nodded, grinning.

Havelock looked at the paper again, then at Grunworth, then at the paper again.

Silas ran in and grabbed them both by the arms.

" What the hells are you two doing?" he yelled,  "We'll miss poisons! you know we can't afford to miss poisons!"

Havelock showed him the paper.

There was a whispered conversation.

Silas looked at them both.

"Are you sure?"

They both nodded, grinning.

Silas looked at the paper, then at his friends, then at the paper again.

They made poisons just in time and giggled all the way through it.

To be continued………

Please review, hells, I need all the help I can get.


	2. Mud, blood and revelations

Ok, I have mislaid my assassin's guild diary for the moment, but in case anyone wonders what Downey did wrong, there is a rule in there that states that no student is to visit a house of "ill-repute" until he is in the sixth form. Well, that's vaguely it anyway.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Another bright and beautiful day dawned in Ankh-Morpork.well, bright anyway.  
  
Grunwoth Nivor muttered in his sleep, rolled over and fell out of bed with a resounding thud that woke up several assassins including Havelock Vetinari who, irritated that he couldn't get back to sleep, lay awake staring at the ceiling. It was a few minutes before he clocked Slias' empty bed. Noting the time, he padded over to the window.  
  
The smell of cigarette smoke drifted down and he smiled to himself.  
  
Silas was in the habit of having a furtive cigarette around dawn, in a nook left by a recently departed gargoyle. As Havelock crept along the roof towards him, he grinned and wordlessly offered the cigarette to him. Havelock declined, smoking was bad for your health, it limited your capabilities.  
  
It didn't seem to be doing Silas any harm, it was true, but then a charging elephant on illegal substances would have problems denting Silas.  
  
They sat watching the dawn for a while, the rooftop offered an expansive view of the city, with the rising sun streaking the chimneys orange, it actually looked beautiful.  
  
Silas carefully stubbed out the cigarette, brushing the ash over the edge of the building, and hid the dog end in his sock.  
  
He turned to his friend and grinned wickedly "Are you going to enlighten him?" he said, an evil little grin on his face.  
  
Havelock smiled "No, let him stew over it for a bit, he must have realized his blunder by now."  
  
Silas nodded "I heard Ludorum complaining last night that he couldn't get any sleep because Downey was rattling around looking for something."  
  
They looked at each other, both smiling evilly.  
  
Silas broke the silence; " Do you think we're being a bit cruel though? I mean, he's an arse, it's true, but the humiliation will be.well, humiliating."  
  
Havelock seemed to think about this for a while, then he turned back to his friend.  
  
"Nah."  
  
As they crept back into the dormitory, there was a thud that seemed to shake the roof, and a lot of muffled cursing.  
  
Havelock sighed "We're going to have to put some kind of barrier around his bed soon."  
  
Silas giggled "A whole pile of Downey's waiting to be squashed by the mighty Nivor!"  
  
"Great Nivor, hear our prayer."  
  
"Grunwoth the Destroyer!"  
  
"Shhhh!"  
  
As they got back into their respective beds, Havelock heard Silas having to muffle his laughter with his pillow.  
  
* * *  
  
Warning! This scene contains football! If the thought of lithe young assassins running around in the mud is liable to cause you excitement, those with overactive imaginations are advised to have a lie down or think about something else.  
  
The rain fell in a relentless hammering, as if it was trying to smash the Disc.  
  
The ball shot into the net.  
  
"YEESSSS!" Silas sprinted over the pitch with his shirt over his head, narrowly missing the goal posts.  
  
Half of Viper house screamed in triumph, the other half seethed and Downeys lips narrowed into an ugly line.  
  
Silas was almost flying over the pitch, mud splattered his face and whilst he was temporarily blinded, Downey seized an opportunity and kicked him hard on the shin.  
  
Silas fell back into the mud, cursing, and Downey, smirking, passed the ball to Johan, who scored the next goal, to the laughter and applause of his team.  
  
Grunworth, who had hauled Silas out of the mud, flung himself at Downey and they both went flying, Downey looking very surprised, then angry, crawled out from under Nivor, cursing.  
  
Most of the young assassins were too busy still playing to notice the small fight breaking out, but a few were beginning to sidle over in the hope of amusing developments.  
  
They were not disappointed, Downey was knocked off his feet again by both Silas and Havelock, who had both hurled themselves at him at the same time.  
  
Then ill feeling broke out and they commenced to fight.  
  
It was almost impossible to tell friend from foe, everyone was covered in mud. "Everyone" consisted of those who were game for a laugh, those who were spoiling for a fight, and those who had just been in the way when the tide of assassins swept into the melee.  
  
They struggled in the mud until Downey and Vetinari were separated with the help of four other students, and Silas gamely tried to prise Grunworth off Johan Ludorum, who was having mud shoved down his shorts.  
  
Eventually they divided into their original teams and glared at each other through the sheet of rain.  
  
Downey screamed revenge. "You little shits!" he shouted, unheeding of the games tutor (who had been having a quiet smoke) hurrying towards them. "You wait! We'll beat the shit out of you!"  
  
A few assassins behind him growled assent, while most of them muttered "We?" under their breath.  
  
Havelock, wiping the blood from his nose shouted back: "Why not get serena to do it for you!" his blue eyes flashed.  
  
The colour drained out of Downey's face, leaving his eyes glittering through the rain like those of a starving animal.  
  
"Or Fifi!" Silas chimed in "You're not in the sixth form yet Elliot!"  
  
Silence fell. The assassins that were a bit quicker off the mark started to snigger. Downey growled like an enraged bear and threw himself at Havelock again, calling him things many of the younger assassins resolved to look up once this was over.  
  
In no time the pitch was once again a mass of black clad, muddy students shouting, swearing and generally causing a ruckus.  
  
The games master sighed and put out his cigarette, it was going to take more than a sharp blow on the whistle to sort this lot out.  
  
The clock ticked the seconds away maddeningly slowly, it was the only sound in the corridor outside Flannelfoot's office. The grey sky outside did nothing to alleviate the feeling of impending doom that settled heavily on the three muddy students who sat outside, every one of them wanting to smash that clock that dragged the heels of Time. (Anyone who has sat or stood outside the head-teacher's office waiting for a major telling off will know exactly what I mean)  
  
Downey crept out of the doors and glared at the three sitting in silence.  
  
"You're in for it now." He hissed. "He doesn't look happy."  
  
"So, what does he think of your extracurricular activities?" Said Havelock innocently while Grunworth sniggered into his hands.  
  
Downey looked as if he was about to start another fight, his eyes narrowing and his hands clenching into fists.  
  
There was a polite cough from the doorway, the four of them turned to see Zlorf Flannelfoot standing in the doorway.  
  
"Off with you Downey." He snapped.  
  
With a last defiant glare, Downey loped off down the corridor, he didn't look back.  
  
Zlorf turned his attention back to the miserable looking students. "You three had better come in." he said, and he turned on his heel and walked back into his office.  
  
The three of them looked at each other nervously, Downey had been right. Their headmaster most certainly did not look happy.  
  
To be continued.dun dun duuuun.. 


End file.
